


To Choose Your Fate

by LosttotheHoping



Category: Dishonored (Video Games), Thief (Video Games)
Genre: A meddling prat, Apparently now Corvo is officially a stalker, Cock and Hen pub, Corvo is less careful than he pretends to be, Corvo's sense of humor leaves something to be desired, Emily is always up to something, Garrett has a hard time playing nice, Garrett is kind of grumpy, Garrett may or may not be convinced that Corvo is an idiot, Gen, Green Rider series reference, M/M, The Outsider is a prat, Unknown to friends to lovers, We just don't always know exactly what that is, Why you always injured Garrett?, but..., not that he wasn't sort of one before
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8494843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LosttotheHoping/pseuds/LosttotheHoping
Summary: Garrett's always been a man of the streets, one who listens to the whispers of the shadows and whispers back.  Corvo became the shadows in essence for his own - and his daughter's - survival.  Together, they are trying to stop the toppling of a nation.  However, to do that, they have to get past their own issues first- and neither man is making it particularly easy.





	1. Of Assassins and Master Thieves

**Author's Note:**

> Wip story for NaNoWriMo 2016!! Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett, meet Corvo. He's a bit terrifying.

If it wasn’t the Gloom, it was the bloody Black Plague. Regardless, Garrett had managed to escape the misfortune of catching either. Wounds? Now those were more common, not that he could expect much else. Not with his line of work.

It was just such a thing that had him slipping through a darkened window, automatically moving into the darkest shadow of the room. No sooner had he, did a figure ripple into view, surrounded by unnatural black smoke. Garrett pressed himself deeper into the shadows, holding his breath – and his bleeding side – as the man looked out the window. The moonlight cast the dips and jagged curves of his mask into sharp relief.

Looking at that visage was like looking at a bare, iron skull, welded together with little finesse and the jaw stitched on haphazardly with wire.  It gave one the feeling of being watched, even when the watcher wasn’t looking your way, and unsettled Garrett utterly.  He’d seen his share of ghosts in the night, after all.

Someone screamed out in the square, and the man – the _Assassin_ – stiffened. He sighed, turning away toward the room’s door, and _paused_. His gaze was locked on Garrett’s hiding place. One olive hand drifted to the sword on his hip. Garrett reached for the blackjack on his own.

“Give it to me.” The Assassin’s voice was deep but hoarse.

The strange pendant in Garrett’s pocket pulsed almost longingly, and without a word Garrett pulled it out. The Assassin’s eyes followed it, and Garrett frowned. “I don’t fail a paying job.”

The other man pulled a coin purse off his belt and tossed it to the floor.

The door burst open, five guards pouring into the room. Garrett grabbed the purse, and barreled into the Assassin on his way to the window.

xXx

Corvo got back to the palace just before dawn and made his report to the spymaster, then headed to the Empress’ suites. He checked on her first, finding her asleep, before going to his adjoining apartment. The door locked behind him, he began to remove his jacket, and something clanked to the floor.

He paused and knelt, picking up the icon of his powers. A faint smirk tilted the corner of his mouth as he hefted it. _What a Thief_.

xXx

Garrett made quick work of the cell’s lock, letting himself out within moments of full darkness. The guards were simple to knock out, and he easily made his way to an air duct, slipping inside without a sound. The space was cramped, but he made his way through quickly, and slipped out of the building on the other side.

Straightening, he checked his pocket, pulling out the trinket he’d been asked to steal – it’d been on one of the guards – and then turned to leave. Movement to his left caught his gaze and he drew back against the wall a fraction of a second too late. A dark figure loomed in the guard’s wake as he reached for his arrows, and he crumbled with only the faintest gasp when an arm crushed his windpipe.

Garrett stared at the Assassin with wide eyes as that eerie mask looked at him. A beat passed before he turned away. The thief wasted no time with hesitation and took off into the night.

He skirted hedges and scaled roofs, making good time back to his current hidey hole. Slipping through the window, he landed lightly on his feet. It hadn’t taken him long to get there, but the Assassin beat him anyway.

The man was leaning against the wall of the bell tower alcove, arms loose and ready at his sides. He watched Garrett as the thief slowly straightened. “Time for me to move, then,” Garrett grumbled. “I gave you the rune. What else do you want of me?”

A sack of gold hit the wooden flooring between Garrett’s feet with a jangle. A few coins spilled out, one rolling a couple inches before it spun to a stop. “A job,” the Assassin murmured. “I need a decoy, and evidence.”

Garrett blinked, not reaching for the gold just yet. “For _that_?” He eyed the meager sack pointedly.

“That’s five hundred pieces,” the Assassin said. “You get the other three quarters once the job is done.”

 _Wow. Two thousand?_ “And if I take the gold and disappear?”

“I’ll find you. I never fail a mark,” the taller male said softly.

It didn’t escape Garrett that it was almost an echo of his own words when they first met. Regardless, it was… fairly threatening. “I see.” Cautiously, Garrett crouched, scooping up the fallen gold and its bag. “What evidence?”

“Do you accept the job?” It was eerie, Garrett decided, how little the man before him fidgeted. He was almost preternaturally still, in a way that set off the thief’s nerves.

Nonetheless, Garrett had a feeling that having this man on his side, rather than after him, was a good idea. “Fine. I’ll get your evidence and play decoy.” It was, after all, good money. He rarely ever got that kind of pay straight up from a client.

“Good.” The Assassin finally moved, pushing away from the wall in a suddenly human gesture, and walked to one of the tables to the side. He tapped the map Garrett kept on the wall above it, finger resting on a specific address. “There is a nobleman, Lord Raskal, that lives here. Do you know of him? Good. He’s been trafficking slaves from the Southern Continent, selling them to other rich folk. However, the guard hasn’t been able to find any evidence on the matter. I need you to acquire his books, and meet me back here at the end of the night. Make some noise on your way out, get the security to focus on you so I can do my part.”

Garrett’s brow lifted; that was the most he’d heard the man speak in one go since they’d met. “Which is…?”

“Do you understand?” the Assassin asked, ignoring the question.

The Thief frowned. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. I’ll be back here just before dawn.”

The thief watched him walk to the window and simply leap out. By the time he got to it, the Assassin was gone, vanished into the ether without a sign. “Just what have I gotten myself into this time?”


	2. Of Heists and Differing World Views

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett and Corvo pull off their heist, with predictable results. Emily makes some observations. She's a precocious one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, as a NaNo novel, this is being posted pretty much immediately. There's not much editing going on... Still, I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Getting into the Lord’s house and grabbing his ledgers was the easy part. Escaping after he made noise? That was… well, a bit harder. His arm dripped blood as he rolled over the side of the roof, barely avoiding the arrow of an archer. He grunted as he landed in the haypile he’d spied below. It softened his landing, but jarred his arm.

He gritted his teeth and got off it, darting over to a shadowed alley. He needed to tend to his arm, fast. If he didn’t, he’d bleed out; that damn guard nicked the vein. Drawing a breath, he tugged his mask off and tied it around his arm above the injury, creating an impromptu tourniquet.

There was the soft sound of wind whooshing behind him, and he whirled, lifting his club. The Assassin stepped back automatically, and Garrett exhaled in relief. “Do what you needed to?”

“You’re injured.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

They stared at each other briefly before the Assassin nodded. “Yes. I did.”

Garrett frowned and straightened, but swayed. The world tilted around him, spinning suddenly as he pitched toward the ground. “Thief!” a harsh voice hissed as he landed on something soft. Everything was blurry, indistinct, but his gaze caught something shadowed in his vision, blocking out the light of the moon. “Thief, don’t...”

xXx

He woke up on a bed. An actual bed, stuffed with down, with a fluffy pillow and warm blankets draped over him. A man in white sat beside the bed, checking his arm with a seemingly perpetual frown on his face. “At least it isn’t infected,” he said, voice pitched to carry as Garrett feigned sleep. “You should have gotten him here sooner, though. He’s lost so much blood, I’m not entirely sure he’ll even wake up, milord.”

There wasn’t a response, though someone moved off to the right; papers crinkled and shifted. The doctor, for he certainly was, continued. “Where did you meet this man?”

“He’s been working at the docks for a little over a month now. Came from overseas,” a familiar voice replied. Except now, instead of pitched low and hoarse, it was cultured and smooth, commanding respect. “I met him right after the coronation.”

“And his name?”

“He’s never given me his real name.”

The doctor started to frown, lifting his head to look at someone out of Garrett’s line of view. “Such a shady fellow, milord. Surely, someone of your status shouldn’t-”

“Are his injuries set?” the Assassin interrupted abruptly.

“Ah… yes, milord. Of course.” He stood up and stepped away. “Make sure he gets the opium when he wakes. It’ll curb the pain. If he wakes….”

“Dismissed.”

The man sighed. “Really, Corvo. We’ve worked together a long time; you really shouldn’t treat me like the hired help.”

A sigh. “Of course… My apologies, Piero, I’m just…”

“Yes, yes, I know. You’ll be fine.” He chuckled and left, the door clicking closed a beat later.

“You can stop pretending,” the Assassin said suddenly.

Garrett opened his eyes and turned his head toward the man. To his surprise, the Assassin –  _ Corvo _ , apparently – was dressed rather well. Silk and leather, made for ease of movement with at least three hidden weapons beneath it all. “Who are you?” the thief asked, carefully sitting up.

“...Corvo, as you no doubt heard.”

“Yes.” Garrett sighed, spying a pitcher of water on the bedside table. He reached for it, but his arm twinged suddenly and painfully. He flinched, jerking the limb back in against his side.

Corvo walked over to the pitcher and poured him a glass of water, holding it out. He was actually rather handsome, with chin-length brown hair kept neatly, and a young face with too many cares upon it.

Garrett accepted the cup after a beat, sniffing it to check for sedatives before sipping. It was clean, as far as he could tell, and he gulped the rest. Corvo took the cup back when it was empty, refilled it, and set it beside the pitcher. “You stink,” he commented. “There’s a bath. You should use it.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Garrett scoffed incredulously.

The other man tilted his head, blinking. “How is that stupid?”

“You want me to start smelling and looking like… you?” the thief demanded, irrationally annoyed. He understood, to an extent, the reasoning behind the offer, but… he was a blackhand, a  _ thief _ . Not some pampered lordling. Keeping himself clean was one thing, but bathing here? That was asking for it. Even  _ being _ here was crazy. “I have to go.”

Corvo stared at him as he threw off the blanket and got up. “I’m not sure I understand...”

“You don’t have to. Thanks for the offer, for helping me out, but I’m not interested. Just give me my money.”

“Your...” The Assassin suddenly chuckled, and turned, striding toward a desk on the other side of the room. He retrieved a large sack from it and tossed it to Garrett. “Very well. As you wish, master thief. But I’ll be in contact.”

_ Definitely finding a new place to bed down _ , Garrett thought sourly, moving for the window. Pain flared in his arm as he shoved it up, but he did his best to ignore it.

“Thief.”

Garrett froze on the windowsill, and glanced back. He caught the cloth tossed to him immediately; his mask, washed. “So long,” he murmured, and leapt to the balcony outside.

xXx

“Corvo, you seem distracted...”

Corvo turned his head, looking at the Empress seated beside him as the last courtier of the morning was escorted from the throne room. “Do I? My apologies, your majesty.”

She frowned at him. “I wasn’t looking for your apologies. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing important,” he said, not exactly a lie.

“Does it have something to do with that blackhand of yours?”

He blinked at the young woman, a little surprised she’d heard of that, much less knew what the thief was. “I… yes, your majesty.” Wait,  _ his _ blackhand? What was that supposed to mean?

Beside him, the Empress hummed, leaning back in her seat. “I want cake. Do you want cake, Corvo?” she asked, standing.

He suspected it was less a question and more a command. The girl had very quickly grown into her power in the year since her coronation, and retained the respect of her loyalists by being shrewder than was expected of a child, but also cunning. In hindsight, her knowledge of his- the thief really shouldn’t have surprised him so much.

Corvo watched her wave off an attendant, making her way through the palace with ease borne of knowing your home well. She’d grown up here, after all. “Hmmm… chocolate or vanilla?” she asked, turning down a long hall with him three steps behind.

“...vanilla,” he said, bemused. She always bemused him. He was never really sure what she was thinking, and now was no exception. “Majesty?”

“Emily,” she chided. “You called me that before I was ruler, call me it now. It’s only us, after all.”

As they entered the kitchens, the cooks all paused what they were doing to gape at the pair. She went on as if not noticing. “Cake! I want cake. Vanilla, with strawberries on top!” she demanded immediately of the head chef, and turned to look at her protector. “Corvo. Are strawberries alright with you?”

With both of their gazes on him, he simply nodded; she smiled and gestured he follow her to her favorite nook in the room. A small table had been set up there three months previously when he found out she’d been sneaking to the kitchens in the middle of the night. “Maj-” He stifled a wince at her sharp look. “Emily. What are you up to?”

She laughed softly and waved for him to sit. When he did, she called for tea and beamed at him. “Up to? Nothing! I just like having time to visit with you!” she chirped.

He wondered if she really expected him to buy that, but didn’t comment. Instead, he listened to her chatter about the meetings from the morning, what people were wearing and how good they looked, what colors she fancied. He watched the cook prepare their cake, a servant bring them tea. He kept all his senses trained on the room around them.

“-your man could use some freshening up, Piero tells me!”

His attention abruptly returned to her to find her smirking at him mischievously. “My man?” he echoed, frowning. Damn Piero.

The Empress nodded. “Mmhm! Apparently he’s dirty.”

Corvo sighed. “Your Majesty-”

A young man entered the kitchen, carrying a small box, and Corvo looked at him. He didn’t look at all familiar; Emily wasn’t paying any attention.

“Yes? What is it, Corvo?” Emily asked as he stood. “Corvo?”

The boy halted in his approach, eyes wide as he took in Corvo’s expression. He was trembling faintly, his grasp on the box unsteady. He took a step back, swallowing. Corvo advanced, and the boy dropped the box, as well as the knife he’d been holding under it.

Whirling, the kid took off back out of the kitchens. Corvo exhaled, grasping his magic, and  _ Blinked _ . When he reappeared in front of the boy, he grabbed him by the arm, spun him, and shoved him against the wall. The boy cried out.

Guards came running, and Corvo handed the boy over before returning to a silent Emily’s side to be sure she was safe. Both cooks stepped away from her, and Corvo nodded his thanks to them. “Empress, please accompany me back to your suites.”

Sighing, Emily nodded and got up. “Bring the cake and some tea to my rooms,” she ordered the head chef, and swept from the room before Corvo.

The Lord Protector followed with a sense of grim satisfaction. No one would ever be able to get to his Empress. Not ever.


	3. Of Bored Gods and Creeping Ninjas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers flare and the Outsider meddles. So basically, business as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I'm hoping that posting a chapter will help inspire me. Someone please inspire me!!! Or... prompt me. Or at least just say hello! I know you're there! You keep giving me kudos! Pllleeaaaassseeeee!!!!!

“There’s a guy that wants to meet you,” Basso announced as Garrett slipped through the door. “Has a pretty high paying job for ya.”

Garrett lifted a brow and walked over to him. “Who?”

“Some upper echelon Duke. Seems he wants you to steal someone,” Basso replied, shrugging. “He wouldn’t go into detail for me, though. Says he’ll tell you in person what he wants.”

“I’m not interested in kidnap,” the thief replied flatly. “What else do you have?”

Basso snorted and handed over a couple coins, accepting the item Garrett had just got back from stealing. “Couple trinket thefts, some info theft… oh, and the Lord Protector.”

Garrett blinked. The Lord Protector? “What does he want with _me_?”

His old friend shrugged. “Wants you to steal some information for him. His messenger seemed pretty confident you’d do it.”

That was interesting. “What information?”

“Wants you to find out what the Bottle Street Gang has on the Empress’ security.” Basso smirked. “Should be cake for you.”

“And the other info job?”

Basso handed over a letter. “Wants said information on the Empress’ security.” His friend laughed. “Choices, there.” He grinned. “He says he’ll pay five hundred gold for it. Now, the trinket thefts are someone’s old broach that their ex husband took off with, and a priceless necklace being hoarded by a minor earl, Lord Alphonse Wickham.”

“The broach?”

“Currently, the ex is living in the old loft apartment over the bakery on Peters St.”

Nodding, the thief scanned the letter with the information theft before handing it back. “Not interested in that one. The rest, I’ll do, and be back with later tonight.”

“Sure thing,” Basso said, watching him turn to go. “Oh, and Garrett?”

Pausing in the door, Garrett looked back at him. “What?”

“The kidnapping… Might wanna at least get some information from the guy, know where to avoid, that sorta thing.” Basso lifted both brows at him. “He’ll be waiting behind Hangman’s Square in an hour...”

“...I’ll think about it.” Garrett left.

xXx

Garrett wasn’t sure how he got himself into these things. Mainly, kidnapping the damn _Empress_. He should probably blame Basso, it was usually his fault. Still, the proposed pay was terrifyingly high. More than the Assassin had paid him for that one job, and the Duke Letham had really wanted to get the Empress under his thumb. Not that Garrett cared that much, but he’d let himself be talked into it.

Now, he was slipping through the window of the Empress’ suites, gaze darting around in search of the mysterious Lord Protector that everyone was so afraid of. Fortunately, there was no sign of the man, so Garrett moved toward the Empress’ room.

There was the sound of soft voices inside, and he drew closer, crouching in a shadow as he listened.

“ **_Your eternal Majesty, so pretty, so old for one so young. We have a lot in common, you know_ **.”

“If I call him, he’ll come for me. I don’t care who you think you are...”

The voice of a child, and someone else, someone darker. Garrett considered saying to hell with it and going back out the way he came. Something stilled him, though, and he crept closer, putting his ear to the keyhole.

“ **_He’ll come for you, that is true. But we are old friends, your esteemed Lord Protector and I. We’ve walked the same path since the day your mother died_ **.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Go _away_!”

“ **_He isn’t here. He can’t protect you now. Fortunately for us both, however, I am not interested in harming you. That wouldn’t be nearly as fascinating as giving you power. Do you want power, little Emily Kaldwin? Power to destroy, to protect, to punish… to do with whatever you wish?_ ** ”

“...wha… what do you mean? What are you talking about?”

Garrett swallowed, fists clenching. She sounded so scared…

“ **_You’ll understand some day, little one. For now,_ ** **_he_ ** **_watches over you. Until we meet again_ **.”

The thief waited and listened, and heard the soft sound of scared sobbing. He backed away from the door and sat against a wall, staring unseeing at the wall opposite him. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just witnessed, or why, but it unsettled him on a deep level.

There was someone that meant this little girl harm, more than one someone. Including himself. He should leave. He needed to go turn in the trinkets and information he’d acquired tonight to Basso. _I’m no kidnapper_.

“ _If you double cross me, thief, your little boss there will disappear. Wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?_ ”

He needed to do this. If he didn’t, then Basso would…

**_You’ll want to go in there and protect her now, Garrett_ ** , a voice whispered in the back of his mind, sounding very much like the conversant the Empress had been speaking with.

Garrett was moving before he’d even entirely made the decision to, trying the handle of the door. He heard a sharp intake of breath on the other side, the immediate halt of crying. “Who are you!? HELP! GUARDS!!”

The thief heard a crash within and kicked the doorknob twice, destroying it and slamming it open as a man in black was grabbing at the girl on her bed. The man whirled and vanished, reappearing right in front of Garrett. Dodging a swing of a knife, Garrett swung his blackjack into empty air. He ducked as the man attacked from behind, and half turned to get enough momentum, knocking the man out when he reappeared before the thief.

As the man crumpled, a blade pressed into the small of Garrett’s back. He froze, suddenly knowing who was standing behind him.

“Oh, _Corvo_! You’re back!” the Empress gasped in relief.

“What are you doing here, thief?” the Assassin snarled.

“Apparently stopping a kidnapping,” Garrett replied dryly. “You should make sure she isn’t hurt, instead of threatening me when we both know you won’t kill me.”

They stood there in silence for several long moments before Corvo withdrew. Garrett relaxed fractionally, watching him walk over to the girl on the bed, draping a blanket around her shoulders as she hugged him. The Assassin hugged her back, and Garrett abruptly understood. “You’re the Lord Protector.”

Corvo looked up, face still covered by that creepy mask, and nodded. “I am.”

“Ah.” That explained a lot, actually. Frowning, Garrett pulled out a couple pieces of parchment and dropped them onto a nearby table. “There’s the information you wanted, then. Also, Duke Letham wants possession of her, so you should watch out for him.”

The Lord Protector responded as Garrett turned away. “How do you know that?”

“...he hired me to take her,” Garrett replied bluntly, tensing again.

“That’s why you’re here.”

“Yes.”

Emily Kaldwin sniffled. “Then why’d you save me?”

Garrett sighed and looked back at her. “I don’t like taking kids. I came here to make sure it wouldn’t happen.”

“Empress, go into my rooms and lock yourself in. I’ll take care of the thieves,” Corvo murmured, just loud enough for Garrett to make out.

Great. That sounded like something Garrett really wanted to stick around for. “Don’t hide her on my account,” he drawled, listening to her receding footsteps. Another door clicked closed and Garrett turned, just in time to get slammed against a wall. He grunted and attempted to grab his club, but Corvo knocked it from his hand and trapped his arm against the wall as well.

This close, Garrett could see Corvo’s angry brown eyes through the holes in his mask, and hear the faint sound of his breathing. “Don’t make it sound pretty. I’m not stupid. I know you were planning to take her,” the Lord Protector snarled at him, elbow crushing Garrett’s windpipe.

The thief grunted and drew his knee up into Corvo’s stomach. Gasping, he released Garrett, who then kicked him back and onto his ass, swiping Corvo’s sword as he fell. He pressed the tip to Corvo’s throat. “If I wanted to take her, I would already be gone,” Garrett snarled, breathing heavy.

Corvo glared up at him. “And why would you have to begin with?”

Garrett snorted and glared right back. “That’s none of your concern, _Lord Protector_.” He threw the sword aside and headed to the nearest window, shoving it up. “Don’t approach me again.”

“Thief!” Corvo called angrily, but Garrett ignored him and slipped out into the night.


	4. Of a Fallen Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily misses her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPER short chapter, because the next scene is VERY long. I'll be posting it shortly... hopefully.

Emily curled up on her side in Corvo’s bed, clutching a letter to her chest. If she tried very hard and closed her eyes, she could still smell her mother’s perfume on it, in the creases and folds. She could also smell Corvo. The leather grease, rain, salt. She wondered if he’d cried as much as she had when she read this.

She couldn’t ask him, of course. He didn’t know she had the letter. He thought he’d lost it, but she was keeping it safe and sound. Sniffling, she lifted the letter to read the worn lettering once more, although she didn’t need to- she’d already memorized it.

 _Corvo,_  
 _I’m afraid. There have been… strange happenings of late. I hope you get home soon. I hope you never have to read this letter. My dear Lord Protector. Everything we’ve hoped for, everything we’ve achieved, is in jeopardy if we cannot prevent what I fear to pass._  
_Please, do everything you can to help Emily. Raise her, teach her, protect her. Make her into the woman we both know she is to become. Love her as only you can.  
_ -Jess

Sighing, the newly minted Empress carefully folded the letter again, and tucked it away. She did so just in time, for Corvo walked into the room then; she pretended to be asleep.

Her protector sighed somewhere above her and carefully scooped her up. Instead of walking her back to her own bed, though, he hugged her close. “Little Emily,” he murmured so quietly she knew he truly thought her asleep. He sat on the edge of his bed, just holding her for a while. Emily felt herself drifting away, feeling utterly safe and protected.

As she slipped into slumber, she heard him whisper. Later, she wouldn’t be certain it hadn’t actually been a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	5. Of Pubs and Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Outsider is nosy and meddlesome, but then, so is Corvo. Garrett just wants a beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, editing isn't a thing that has happened yet. But here! Extra long chapter!!!

Garrett dragged the unconscious guard behind some rubbish bins, careful to be as silent as possible, and crouched down over him to peek around them. No one had noticed, good. He paused only long enough to take the man’s coin pouch before treading back out into the dark of the night, heading for his goal- Duke Letham’s manor.

He crept in through an open window on the second floor and pressed himself against the deepest shadow near, keen eyes taking in the elaborate furnishings and expensive livery of a woman’s dressing room. Probably the Duchess’.

Olivia Letham, if he recalled correctly. She was apparently quite the socialite, and tonight, she was hosting a ball. He was here to lighten her load, and that of her guests.

Of course, it was risky coming here, after the unsubtle threat that Letham had issued should Garrett fail to steal the Empress. That was the point, though. Garrett needed the man to know that he couldn’t threaten _this_ thief without consequences.

Dire ones.

Smothering the urge to scowl, he picked his way through the second floor, listening with one ear to the merriment going on downstairs, and for anyone approaching with the other. He, naturally, filled his pockets as he went.

Shortly, he approached Letham’s chamber, and crept soundlessly inside. He ducked behind a chest as a maid finished her duties and moved out of the room, then set about leaving a few non-lethal, but undoubtedly painful traps for Letham to find. He despised noblemen and their ridiculous notions of grandeur, of power.

Like that damned Lord Protector, Assassin of the Empire.

_Fuck him_ , he thought sourly, plucking up a few more trinkets and escaping unseen from Letham’s bedroom window.

He’d just reached the alleyway below when he heard a blood curdling scream that froze him in place. _Did someone get killed?_ No, not by his hand. He’d made sure the traps wouldn’t kill anyone, not even a child. Then what?

“ASSASSIN!!!” someone shrieked, as if in answer to his thoughts.

Garrett swore under his breath. _Corvo_. Was he here? Was he acting on the thief’s intel after all?

He quickly scaled some crates to a windowsill above and watched from the dark as people came running out of the manor. Men and women, some crying, others ashen or faint. One woman’s legs gave out beneath her as she exited, and she was helped quickly away from the building by a footman. Garrett frowned.

This sort of spectacle wasn’t exactly like the Assassin, save the one time he’d hired Garrett. What could possibly be going on?

He was answered in the next heartbeat when something inside, wine or gunpowder, exploded into furious fire. Garrett jerked in surprise, nearly falling from his perch as he stared with wide eyes.

Everything around him seemed to freeze, becoming a nightmarish portrait for his view alone. A woman that had been ducking was utterly still halfway into the motion. The lick of fire within the manor had gone inanimate, stuck in a blare of light like the gates of hell. Everything fell into silence.

“ ** _You have a choice before you, Garrett. But then, you’re no stranger to choices, are you?_** ” a voice said to his left.

The thief jerked his head around, and gaped at the strange gaunt man seeming to float in the air not far from him. He was surrounded by a corona of blue light, a cold, ethereal aura. “Who...” He recognized that echoing voice. “You’re the man that was speaking with the Empress.”

“ ** _Yes. I am known to many as the Outsider, though my names are endless._** ”

The Outsider. “I’m through with Gods and Magic,” Garrett snapped, and leapt from the windowsill.

He landed light as air on a crumbling, haunted building. Startled, he looked around, taking in the sweeping nothingness around him. “ ** _Perhaps you are_** ,” the Outsider’s voice agreed from everywhere and nowhere, “ ** _But we are not through with you. Neither the Assassin, beloved of the Empress, Father of a Dynasty. You will both dance for us, as ever you have._** ”

Garrett strode forward quickly, attempting to escape, to find some way out of this madness. “I dance for no one!” he said angrily, finding the edge of the building falling away. Below, some ten feet, was a sturdy wooden waterwheel floating upon its side. It was achingly familiar.

The Outsider laughed, undaunted by his frustration. “ ** _You danced for_ ** **_her_** ** _._** ”

Snarling, the thief whirled, club in hand, and swept empty air. “Leave her out of this!!” His voice didn’t echo, swallowed by the void around him.

“ ** _But she brought you into it, Garrett. She alone is responsible for your fate. I must admit, I’m fascinated by you_**.”

Garrett jumped down to the waterwheel, finding that below _it_ rested another building, this one aflame, floating upside down. He climbed from the wheel onto its bottom, finding a convenient trapdoor there.

The Outsider went on when Garrett didn’t respond. “ ** _You came from nothing, have nothing, are nothing. And yet, you are watched by Fate herselves. Even my dear Corvo is not blind to your… passive aggressive charm._** ”

What the hell was _that_ supposed to mean? “You’re insane.”

Laughter followed him down toward the ceiling. “ ** _It’s such a shame I cannot claim you, mark you as my own. Alas, you’re marked already. It isn’t polite to steal, after all._** ”

Garrett was sure there was a barb in there somewhere, no matter how fondly exasperated it sounded. He didn’t bother replying, and reached the lowermost floor, where he found no other platforms awaiting him. Empty air yawned beneath and around, and he scowled.

“ ** _Ah... He’s come to claim you. Such a pity. I was enjoying our talk,_** ” the Outsider lamented, suddenly standing before him.

Garrett blinked, and found himself looking up into a familiar masked face, laying on cold stone. Corvo grabbed his hands, one after the other, to check them, and exhaled a sigh of relief. “Why did he...”

“Keep your mad god away from me,” Garrett snapped, rolling away from him.

Corvo made a noise of annoyance. “He’s not _my_ anything. I’m just unfortunate enough to have caught his interest.”

Garrett scowled and got to his feet, looking around. They were on Maple Street, some three blocks from the Duke’s grounds. “Did you start the fire?”

“No.” Corvo tilted his head at the thief. “I thought you did.”

That was what Garrett had been afraid of. “No. I left a few harmless traps, but nothing that’d cause that.”

Corvo was staring at him silently, utterly still. It was hard to read him this way, with his face covered and body unmoving. Not that Garrett _cared._  He didn’t. At all.

“Still. Some people noticed you. You should make yourself scarce for a few nights,” Corvo said finally.

Garrett wasn’t afraid. “Mind your own business.”

“You don’t have many friends, do you?”

The thief bristled. “ _That’s_ not your business either. Leave me alone,” he snapped, and started making his way toward a nearby gutter path. Hopefully Corvo wasn’t planning to follow him.

His hopes were dashed a moment later when he heard the faintest whisp of cloth against cloth behind him. “Go away,” he said.

“Hm. No.”

What the bloody hell was _wrong_ with this idiot? Garrett stopped and swung a fist, just about fed up with this entire night. Corvo seemed to have been expecting some sort of attack, because he caught the punch and promptly swept Garrett’s feet out from under him, letting him crash to the ground. “You’re a bit of a child, you know.”

Childish. Passive aggressive. Goddamn _mystical dipshits_.

“Stop _stalking_ me.”

Corvo snorted and held out a hand to him. “Tell me about your visit with the Outsider.”

Garrett once again chose not to respond, and got to his feet on his own. He wanted nothing to do with the Lord Protector’s mad life.

To his irritation, the Assassin simply continued following him when he started walking again. Shortly, they were stepping into the gutter path. Garrett decided he wasn’t going back to his sleeping place, and so went by the turn off, taking another route. This way lead to the Cock and Hen pub. He may as well get a decent drink if he couldn’t head back yet.

“Where are we going?” Corvo asked after a beat.

The thief shrugged. “Pub.”

Corvo paused bodily and considered. Then he simply took off his mask and tucked it away out of sight. “Lead on, then,” he drawled with a faint smirk. Garrett stared at him. Corvo tilted his head. “What?”

Garrett paused. “Aren’t you worried someone might see you with me?” he asked finally.

The Lord Protector looked mildly confused. “No… Why would I?”

“… I’m the _Master Thief_ ,” Garrett stressed, frowning. “You could get in trouble for not arresting me on the spot.”

Snorting, the other man shook his head. “I’d probably face execution if they learned I’m the Assassin of the Empire, as well. Don’t worry, thief. I’ll manage fine.”

Garrett scoffed and turned away. “Fine. It’s your funeral.”

Once they reached the pub, they mutually decided, without any exchange, to head to the darkest corner of the room. A barmaid scurried over and they each ordered a pint before relaxing into their seats and staring at one another. Several moments passed, broken only by the maid with the ale.

Movement drew their attention, and Garrett looked up as Basso made his way over. “Well well. Never expected to see _you two_ together like this. Branching out, eh, Garrett?”

Garrett’s brow twitched. “...Did you need something, Basso?”

His old friend laughed, drinking from the mug in his hand. “Surly bastard. Why are you putting up with him, milord? I can’t imagine he’s a terribly stimulating conversant...”

Corvo, chin propped on his fist, lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It suits me well enough. Quiet company is rare to find.”

“True enough!” Basso’s laughter, oddly, was grating on Garrett’s nerves. The man sat in a chair and started talking with Corvo about affairs of the empire.

Garrett eased as they seemed to all but forget he was there, and just listened. He’d seen Basso work people over for information before, of course, but he got the sense that Corvo was saying as much as he wasn’t. Not surprising, considering he was the Lord Protector. He’d be fairly poor at his job if he let secrets slip in a crowded tavern.

Basso ordered them another round of drinks when theirs were all but gone.  He flirted outrageously with the barmaid, but Corvo didn't seem interested.  Garrett, for his part, simply waited the Assassin out.  Sure enough, he finished his second mug almost regretfully.  “I must be off.  Business to attend to, after all,” he said, scooting back his chair to stand.  He looked to the thief with a small quirk of the lips.  “Until we meet again.”

The pair watched him walk out of the tavern, stopping only to speak briefly with the barmaid and hand her some coins - a tip, Garrett assumed - before he was gone.  Basso whistled under his breath.  “Dangerous friends you keep, Garrett.”

“You would know,” Garrett replied offhandedly.

Basso snorted.  “Only a little bit.  I’m sneaky and underhanded.  I’m not a terrifying spectre,” he replied, waving the barmaid over again.  “Want some food?  On me!”

At that, Garrett gave his friend a suspicious glare.  “Since when do you buy me food?”

“Oh come now, Garrett.  We’re friends, right?  What sort of friend would I be if I never bought you a beer and some grub?”

“One with an agenda.”

Basso laughed.  “You know me far too well, old friend.”

_I knew it_.  Garrett sighed.  “What do you want?”

“Just a small thing, nothing more…” Basso hedged, eying him.  “Information, specifically…  On the esteemed Lord Protector, of course.”

Garrett was saved from responding by the barmaid’s arrival and leaned back in his chair.  Of course it was the Assassin.  Basso never changed, did he?

When the woman left to fetch their dinner, he frowned at the man across from him.  “Why would I know anything about him?”

Basso just smirked at him and took a sip of his ale, brows arched.  Right.  Naturally.  Because apparently keeping company with the infamous automatically meant you knew things.  Garrett, of course, _did_ know things, but that was hardly the point.  He certainly wasn’t going to spill it all to _Basso_.  Basso would _sell_ the information to the highest bidder if he wanted to.

So in response, Garrett reached for his own drink, and sank further into his seat.  Basso laughed.  “Fine fine.  Keep your secrets!  Keep _his_.  Just confirms my suspicions…”

The thief frowned again.  “Suspicions?”

“You’re making _friends_!  Last time you admitted to anything like that, the City was crumbling!”

“I’m not making friends,” Garrett protested, irritated.

“Thank goodness for the City,” Basso said with a snicker.

Rolling his eyes, Garrett nursed his drink, eying those around them.  “Actually, I was hoping _you_ could tell me something about him.  Anything.  His favorite whore would be a start.”

Basso’s brows nearly disappeared beneath his hat.  “He’s a pure man, you know.  Doesn’t mess around with whores, apparently.  Keeps to himself.”  He grinned and leaned forward.  “There are rumors that him and the late Empress Kaldwin were lovers… that the current Empress might even be his daughter.”

Garrett blinked.  That explained a few things.  Like Corvo’s anger when Garrett had come to take her away.  And the Outsider’s interest in her.  “I see.  But can you confirm it?” he asked, not wanting to operate on assumptions.

“No.  But it’s not really a great secret,” Basso replied, shrugging.  “She even has his eyes.”

_His eyes_ …  Garrett had a sudden flash of angry brown eyes glaring at him through glass and leather, less than four inches away.  He frowned thoughtfully, and shook away the vision.  “What else can you tell me?”

The informant snorted.  “Am I getting paid for this, Garrett?”

“Naturally.”  That was, after all, the nature of their arrangement.

At that pronouncement, Basso seemed to get more serious.  “What are you planning, Garrett?  You’re not going to double cross a man like that, are you?”

Garrett rolled his eyes.  “I’m not stupid, Basso.  Relax,” he said, lifting his drink.  They both lapsed into silence as the barmaid returned with their food.  “I just want to be prepared,” he added once she was out of earshot again.

“If you say so,” his friend replied dubiously, and sighed.  “Well, he’s pretty well-known for having rescued the Empress from the clutches of the Usurper Empire, but I’m sure you’ve heard of that.  He has many friends throughout the guard, but also enemies.  Jealousy is a very potent emotion, and they hate what he became so effortlessly.  I’ve had no few requests for assassination, but nobody’s crazy enough to try.”

The thief shook his head.  “That’s wise of them.  He would kill them without hesitation,” he said thoughtfully.  He had no doubt about that.  Corvo was a peculiar man, but when threatened, he was ruthless.

“You sound pretty sure of that,” Basso noted quietly, eying him.

Garrett looked up at him, brow furrowing.  “I recently had the opportunity to see him crossed.  I would not advise doing so, Basso.  Don’t even give out the hit on behalf of someone else.”

Basso considered that, adjusting his hat as he thought.  “Yeah, alright.  I'll throw out the hit, since you asked so nicely.”

“Good,” Garrett murmured.  “Did Letham survive the fire?”

“Yes, unfortunately.  Don't worry, I'm being careful….  Don't want him putting out a hit on _me,_  after all!”

Garrett frowned as Basso laughed about it.  He was worried.  Not about Corvo, specifically.  He was worried about the fire at Letham’s manor, happening while both he and Corvo were nearby, even present on the grounds.  Coincidence didn't exist, not in Garrett's world.  Who was behind it?

Garrett mulled it over as they ate, letting Basso carry the conversation.  He barely paid attention, only answering when it was necessary.  Finally, he blinked when he realized his friend had stopped talking, looking up.  Basso was watching him, wearing a thoughtful expression.  “What?” Garrett asked, wondering if Basso had said something he needed to respond to.

“You are the most oblivious man I've ever met,” he commented, looking to the side.

When Garrett turned his head to follow the informant’s gaze, the barmaid ducked her head and nearly dropped her tray.  The thief blinked.  “Oh.”

“She's been sneaking peeks all night, Garrett,” Basso informed him, amused.

“... It's fine.  I'm not really interested,” Garrett replied, shrugging.  He set aside his fork and stood up.  “I need to get going.”

“Hmph.  Fine, but I expect that mark by morning!” the older man chided.

Garrett smiled at him faintly and nodded before walking away.  He had thieving to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment please!


	6. Of Old Longings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Zehn Chang, the royal spymaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been a bit. I've been going through some real life stuff. Hope you enjoy, and please leave your opinions!

Corvo stepped into the Spymaster’s office unseen.  Even so, the short, slender man at the bookshelf, back to the Assassin, spoke.  “Welcome back, Lord Corvo.  I trust all went well?”

Suppressing a snort, Corvo dropped a sheaf of paper onto the man's desk, eying him.  He had long jet black hair tied back at the nape of his neck and almond-shaped grey eyes that resembled the moon. His face was worn and creased, like paper folded too many times, from a lifetime of too many cares and laughter.  He was from the Orient, but had lived in Dunwall since he was a child.

As he turned to Corvo, Zhen Chang smiled; it lit up his face.  The assassin returned the grin and shrugged.  “Well enough.  Although Duke Letham’s manor burned.”

“I heard about that, yes,” Zhen murmured, walking over to look at the papers.  “Ah, this will do nicely…  what were you doing near Letham, anyway?  I told you to keep your distance.”

Corvo looked away under Zhen’s steady gaze.  “I was checking up on him.”

The spymaster sighed.  “My Lord Corvo…  we've been over this.”  His smile was fond.  “I know you wish to deal with every threat to Her Majesty, but Duke Letham is also one of her most vocal and obvious supporters.  People will wonder if serving her is worth the risk should such a man suddenly disappear.”

“I’m aware.  I agreed with you, Zhen.  That doesn’t mean I’m not going to spare a moment to check up on him when I’m passing through.”

“So long as that’s all it is, my Lord, then I fully support it.”  Zhen smiled again and turned toward the bookshelf, scanning the top briefly.  He pointed toward a book.  “Do me a favor?”

As always amused by their difference in height, Corvo obliged and reached up, grabbing the book.  As he pulled it down, he caught Zehn’s considering look.  “What?”

“I do wonder how the fire  _ started _ .  As you’ve stated, you agree with me, so you wouldn’t have.  Then how?”

Corvo narrowed his eyes at the man, who took the book from his outstretched hand.  Immediately, Garrett’s visage sprung to mind.  Garrett had said he hadn’t, but Corvo wasn’t sure how often he lied.  He  _ stole _ plenty, of course, but that didn’t necessarily make him a liar.  He shook his head and looked at Zehn.  “I don’t know.”

“I’d like you to investigate it.  Tomorrow, appear at the manor with a couple guards.  Make sure people see you.  Let his staff know, subtly, that you are there to make sure the ones responsible for the damage pay, as sanctioned by the Empress.”

“And has she?” Corvo asked, frowning at Zehn.

The spymaster chuckled.  “Naturally.  I spoke with her earlier.  Of course, I didn’t go into the… less savory details.  That is up to your discretion.  She did agree with my plan.  Hopefully by making him think she already thinks highly of him, he’ll back off for now.”

Corvo had to admit, it didn’t sound like a bad plan.  For now.  “And when that stops working?  When he decides he wants more power and tries to get her again?”

“Hopefully we’ll have a better idea of how to handle him more permanently by then,” Zehn said, walking over to the desk.  He sat down behind it.  “In the meantime, security will be increased.  Your specially trained guards will continue to watch her while you’re not present, and when you’re there, nothing could possibly happen to her.”

The Assassin sighed and leaned back against the bookcase.  “It’s a temporary measure at best.”

“I realize that.  But it will have to do for now,” Zehn replied.  “Now, why don’t you join me for a drink before you return?”

Corvo shook his head, stepping away from the wall.  “I need to get back to her Majesty’s side.”

Zehn didn’t look surprised.  “Alright.  Go on, then, Corvo.”

Nodding, Corvo left the office, quickly making his way back to the Empress’ suites.  He nodded to the guards left outside her quarters and passed through.  “How is she?” he murmured.

His student, Andrew Wallace, smiled faintly.  “Asleep,” he whispered back.  “No problems while you were gone.”

“Good.  You’re dismissed, then,” Corvo said, and didn’t move until Wallace was gone.

He went over to the sleeping girl and checked her forehead and pulse, determining she was peaceful and healthy.  She smiled in her sleep, and he stood over her for a few moments, quietly wondering at how beautiful she was becoming.  He could definitely see her mother in her, from the curve of her nose and chin to the slight curl of her hair.  The way she rested her fist against her mouth as she slept was exactly the way her mother had.

Corvo sighed, closing his eyes and fighting back a wave of remorse.  It wasn’t often that he let himself think of Jessamine.  He missed her far too much, and it distracted him.  Things were so uncertain, so dangerous now that he couldn't afford the luxury for long.

He did miss her though.  Of course he did, he’d  _ loved _ her.  She was a wonderful, beautiful woman, strong and intelligent.  It was hard not to love Jessamine Kaldwin, not when you truly knew her soul.

Her smile made him feel like a boy again, full of youth and vigor, but she was gone now.  Gone, and he felt so old for it.  For him, her loss was still clear in the day to day.  She wasn’t there in the morning while Emily ate, grinning and teasing the girl good-heartedly about the clothes she was so excited to have.  Nor did she leave Corvo little notes in paperwork throughout the morning, for him to find later as it was passed on to him; things only they understood.

God, he missed her…

Sighing, Corvo turned away from the slumbering little girl, and headed for his room.  He shut down that part of him that wondered and wished with more effort than usual.  Perhaps he was getting soft.

Then he went to sleep.


	7. Of Coincidences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters are sent and delivered, and we follow our palace crew on a regular morning.

Zehn was prepared to go to bed, just finishing up in his office, when he became aware of someone watching him.  His hand, signing one last document, paused.

“ _Don’t turn around_ ,” a low, growling voice commanded.

“There are guards not twenty feet from where we stand,” Zehn said calmly, fingers curling tightly around the pen.

The man behind him snorted.  “I’m not interested in them.  Or you, for that matter.  There’s a note here on the bookcase.  It’s for the Lord Protector’s eyes only.  Deliver it to him.”

Following that demand was a light clank, that of the window shutters smacking against the brick of the walls.  Zehn pushed his chair back and stood, turning to look.  There was no longer anyone there, but true to his word, he’d left an unsealed note on the third shelf down.

 _Such interesting friends you have, Corvo,_ the Spymaster thought.

xXx

Corvo woke near dawn to a slight sound near his bed.  He cracked his eyes open to find Emily digging through the papers in his bedside drawer.  Bemused, he opened his eyes fully and watched her without saying anything for a few minutes.  Finally, he smothered his smile.  “Your Majesty?”

Emily startled so badly that papers went scattering everywhere, fluttering through the air of his bedroom around them while she looked at him with wide brown eyes.  “Corvo!  You’re awake!”

“...yes,” he replied, and sat up.  “Did you require something of me?”

“Um.”  Her cheeks tinted slightly red as she looked around at the mess of papers.  “Yes!  I… uh.  You should… clean this up immediately!  I’ll be in my room.”

He watched her all but dash out of his room, a piece of paper balled in one fist.

One of her mother’s letters.   _So she’s the reason they keep disappearing_.  He should have known.  Both amused and baffled, he nonetheless got up and gathered the papers, returning them to the drawer before he went in search of her.  She wasn’t in the main bedroom, but he heard the soft crinkle of paper from her private lavatory.  Curiously, he snuck up to the door and listened briefly, before straightening and knocking.  “Emily?  Are you alright in there?”

“Uh.  Yes.  I’ll be a moment.  See to my breakfast!”

He sighed.  “I am your bodyguard, not a servant, Emily.  Besides, you have something that belongs to me.”

Silence came from the room for a beat, but then he heard the sound of her walking closer.  She pulled open the door, looking guilty.  “I… I do, yes.  Corvo, I-”

“I understand,” he said quietly, kneeling before her.  He looked into her face as he wrapped his arms around her slender shoulders.  She hugged him back with a sniffle.  “No crying, your Majesty.  Empresses don’t have time for that.”

She nodded, but he could still feel the wetness on his shoulder.  “I miss her,” she whispered after a moment.  “I miss Momma…”

He closed his eyes, feeling a pang in his chest.  “So do I, Emily.”

Shortly, she pulled back, quickly wiping at her face, and held up the crumpled letter.  “Here…  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have taken it.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed quietly, but closed her fingers over the note.  At her questioning look, he smiled.  “Keep it, Emily.  She was more yours than mine, ever.”

Emily wiped at her eyes with her free hand, pulling the letter close to her chest, and gave him a watery smile.  “Thank you, Corvo.”  Reaching up on her toes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek before giving him a light shove.  “Go stand outside.  I need to change.  Then we can go over the schedule today with Mirriam.”

Corvo bowed and left, stepping outside the room to dismiss the guards.  One paused, however, and handed Corvo a missive.  “Brought an hour ago.  Spymaster Chang said to give it to you when you woke.”

“Thank you.  Go get some rest.”

“Yes, sir.”  The guard smiled and departed, obviously eager to get home.

Left behind, Corvo opened the letter.  It was brief and clearly jotted down as an afterthought.

‘ _I don’t believe in coincidences.  Do you?  
_ _-G._ ’

The assassin blinked in surprise.  Coincidences?  What did that mean?  What coincidences?

Also, how did Garrett manage to convince Zehn to deliver this?  More importantly, why?  As far as Corvo was aware, Garrett wanted nothing to do with him.  Had that changed, or did the thief simply think this was important enough to set those wants aside?

 _I'll have to see him tonight,_ he thought, crumpling the note in his fist.

Emily called from inside the room, just as he spotted Mirriam walking down the hall toward him.  She curtsied and smiled prettily at him.  “Is her Majesty ready to review the day's schedule?”

“Yes.  Come in,” he said, opening the door and letting her through first.  He closed the door behind himself and went to stand beside Emily where she sat at her breakfast table.

Mirriam sat down across the table from Emily.  “Your breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes, Majesty.  In the meantime, we shall review the day's tasks, yes?”

“Of course.  I want to watch Corvo train the guards today,” Emily said imperiously.

He slanted a glance her way, amused.  Mirriam frowned but dutifully noted it down.  “Alright.  You have a meeting during breakfast with Elissa Stanton, the daughter of Lord and Lady Stanton.  They want to arrange for-”

“For her to be my attendant, yes,” Emily agreed, clearly remembering the meeting from last week.  “I wanted to meet her first before I agreed to anything.  Breakfast is perfect, Mirriam.  Well done!”

Mirriam blinked.  “O-oh, thank you, Majesty.  Um, after that, we can adjust things for half an hour so you can watch the training.”

“Thanks,” Emily said, beaming.

“Then, the Spymaster wanted an audience with you…”

“Okay.  I like Zehn.  He's funny.”

Mirriam obviously had a different opinion, but kept it to herself.  “Of course, Majesty.  After that, you'll hold audiences with the general public for complaints and requests for aid.  We will address the after lunch schedule when that is finished.  You'll be lunching with Head Overseer Ruth, who wanted to check up on you and your health.  Doctor Piero has also requested to join you then.”

“Yes, to both!  It's been a while since I saw Piero!” Emily chirped, kicking her legs.  “Can we go to breakfast now?”

Mirriam inclined her head.  “Yes, your Majesty.”

Emily hopped to her feet and turned to grin at Corvo.  “Maybe I'll make a new friend today!  That would be nice, don't you think?”

His brow furrowed bemusedly.  “Yes, I suppose it would be.”

She grinned in response.  “Thank you, Mirriam.  Corvo will bring me to the dining room.  Please fetch Miss Stanton and escort her there?”

“Yes, Majesty.”  Mirriam curtsied and left.

Corvo brought Emily to breakfast and stood by silently as a dainty young girl not much older than her joined them.  She and Emily got on right away, laughing and comparing their favorite foods.  When breakfast came to a close, Emily invited Miss Elissa to accompany them to the training grounds.

They walked through the palace and into the courtyard, where Corvo’s troop waited at attention.  He left the girls with Mirriam and set the men to drills, making corrections for stances and the like as needed.  When the half hour was coming around, he pulled Drent Fellis, his best man, aside and instructed him to choose one other man to accompany Drent and the women to the throne room.  Drent paused, gaze darting over his fellow trainees, and chose Mikel Watson.

Corvo approved, and they left.  He turned to the rest.  “Cease.  Pair off for sparring!” he commanded, voice echoing through the courtyard.

They did so, and he frowned as only one was left; dainty but determined Albrith Wiesen.  He went over to her.  “You will spar with me today.  Shelly is still ill?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, shifting into a ready stance.

“Check on her after training today.  I want to know how much longer she'll be out,” he said, and attacked without warning.

She barely managed to dodge; shabby.


	8. Of Injuries and Illness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo, again, finds Garrett injured. He's beginning to notice the pattern.

Garrett stared up at the moon far above, only half full but shining brightly enough that it created a pale blue corona around itself in the clouds.  It was getting cold.  Was that just the blood loss, or was it really that cold out?

He wondered.

Basso had been right, of course.  He usually was.  Looking into this mess, into Corvo and whoever wanted him dead, was not a good idea.  He should have listened and backed off, went back to his thieving, his commissions and stayed out of it.

Except the coincidence had kept him going.  Coincidences…   _I don’t believe in coincidences_.

He’d gone anyway.  Checked up on Duke Letham, found out who placed the hit.  Of course, it was the Duke’s manservant, Jeffers.  Garrett hadn’t counted on that, nor had he counted on them expecting him.  He’d walked right into the trap, but to his credit, he also walked out victorious.

Injured, but victorious.  He was probably going to die now.  Jeffers was dead, a victim of the claw, and Duke Letham had escaped.  Garrett got halfway back to his hideout before he’d collapsed on a roof.  He’d blacked out for a while, and woke up to the sight of the moon.

It must be nearly midnight.

 _You’re going to die alone, master thief_ , a voice said in the back of his head, sounding vaguely like the thief taker general.

Garrett chuckled dryly, chest aching.  “Of course I die hearing you,” he said, though it came out more a whisper than anything.  A wheeze.

“And here I thought I was being quiet,” a familiar voice drawled.

The thief closed his eyes.   _Naturally_.  Why was he surprised this man had found him, against all odds?

The shuffle of cloth near him drew his eyes open again as Corvo, masked and creepily still, crouched next to him.  He was surveying the knife wound in Garrett’s side.  “Why is it, my friend, that every time we meet, you’re injured?”

Garrett snorted.  “Fortune?”

“I thought you didn’t believe in that sort of thing,” Corvo accused lightly.

“...I don’t.”  Garrett exhaled a rattling sigh, closing his eyes again.  “Is it cold out, Corvo?”

The Assassin’s voice was cold when he replied.  “You’re not dying tonight, thief.  Not if I have any say in it.”

Before Garrett could even think to protest, the other man was hefting him up and throwing him over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes, although careful to avoid the injury.  “We’re going to my friend’s apartment.  It’s nearby.  He can help,” he announced quietly.  “Just hold on.”

The world was swirling through colors of blue and black for a while after that.  Shortly, though, gold flared brightly into his eyes one at a time and he turned his head away.  He was too cold.  “He’s got a fever,” a voice said, unfamiliar.

He drifted off again, and dreamed of a small woman singing a song he didn’t understand, words slurred and garbled.  He imagined she was running her hand through his hair, smile gentle and eyes warm.  She spoke to him, but he couldn’t focus on what she said.

He dreamt about Erin, bright blue eyes furious and determined as she stood before him.  “ _You let go, Garrett!_ ” she screamed at him.

Garrett screamed as she reached for him, and jerked himself away, rolling right off the bed he was laying in.  The woman in the room with him yelped and backed away from him quickly, hands up and eyes wide.  She gasped as Garrett looked around the room, disoriented.  Where was he?

A man ran in, stopping between Garrett and the woman, eyes lowering to focus on something.  “Relax, Garrett, please.  We are friends of Corvo.  He brought you here to have your wounds tended, but you came down with a fever.”  He lifted his hands in a placating gesture.  “We mean you no harm…”

“You’re… you’re the spymaster,” Garrett said, mind murky.  He wasn’t feeling so well, burning and chilling all at once.  Clearly, the thing about fever wasn’t a lie.  Was the rest truth too?  Or was it all a fabrication made genuine by a bit of truth?  Perhaps he’d been drugged.

The man’s voice drew his focus again.  “Yes.  From the palace.  I know Corvo very well.  You left the note for him in my office, yes?” the dark haired man said, taking a cautious step toward Garrett.  “You trusted me to get it to him, without reading it.  I did not read it.  I gave it to him, and he sought you out and found you bleeding.”

Bleeding…  Jeffers, right?  “Where am I?”  Garrett looked for a window, but there were none in the room.  It was all brick.

“You’re in my home.  This is my wife, Shizuya.  I am Zehn.  Please…  Give me the knife now.”  He took another step and stopped, holding out his hand.

Garrett looked at his hand, wondering when he’d pulled the weapon out.  He had others on him, of course.  But it would be stupid to give up his weapon.  “No.”  He shook his head; it hurt.  Everything ached.  “The plague…  I didn’t get the plague, did I?”

“No, of course not,” Zehn said in a calm tone, turning his head toward the woman.  His eyes remained trained on Garrett.  “Shizuya…  Go to the palace, get an audience with the Lord Protector and tell him his friend has awoken.  I will be fine.”

She hesitated, looking between them.

“Go.”

The woman fled from the room.  Garrett watched her go, vision blurring.  His hands were shaking.  “Corvo?”

Zehn nodded carefully.  “It is just past dawn.  I was about to go in myself.  She will bring him here.  It will take some time.  Do you want tea?  It will warm you, help with the shakes.”

“No.  No tea,” Garrett said, feeling suddenly like his legs might give out beneath him.  He stepped back toward the bed, and they did just that, making him stumble.

Zehn didn’t move, watching him cautiously as he sat heavily on its edge.  “Perhaps I can help you with a blanket, then?” he suggested quietly.  “You look cold.”

“How…”  Garrett’s voice cracked and he lowered his trembling arm, hand and knife resting on his thigh.  He cleared his throat and tried again.  “How long did I sleep?”

“Four days.  Shizuya looked after you each day diligently.  Your wound has been healing well,” Zehn told him, seeming sincere.

But then, he was a _spymaster_.  He could probably fake it better than even Basso.  “I’m leaving.”

Zehn sighed.  “I don’t think you can,” he replied pointedly.  “You can barely stand, much less walk.”

“Corvo will help me, then,” Garrett responded, grasping desperately for slippery straws.  He felt old and vulnerable, and it was not a good feeling.  He despised it.

The spymaster inclined his head.  “Yes, he will help you if you insist upon it.  But I really think you should try to rest.  You’re still sick.  It isn’t good to be alone when you can’t defend yourself.”

“I can defend myself,” Garrett replied, gesturing with the knife.

“Of course.  How could I forget?  Please, Garrett.  Rest.  Sleep and you will feel better.”

He did like the idea of sleep.  Perhaps Zehn was right…   _No_ …  No, he shouldn’t sleep in such an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people.  Not even Corvo was safe; exactly the opposite.  “I can’t.”

Zehn tilted his head.  “Of course you can.  Just lay down and close your eyes.  Your body will take care of the rest.”

“ _No_ ,” Garrett snarled angrily, getting unsteadily to his feet.

The other man tensed up again.  “Garrett.  Please-”

“Get out of my way, or I will-”

“Attack the man trying to save your life?” a familiar voice demanded.

Garrett watched Corvo stride into the room, approaching him without faltering.  “Corvo…?”

The Lord Protector held out his hand.  “You’re sick.  You’re still injured.  Your wound has opened up again.  Give me the knife.”

Looking down at his hand, where the blade still gleamed, the thief slowly turned it handle out and offered it.  Corvo took it, and Zehn relaxed behind him.  “I can’t sleep here,” Garrett said, even as Corvo gently pushed down on his shoulders, forcing him to sit.  “There aren’t any windows…”

“There’s the air ducts above your head if you need to escape,” Corvo reassured him, and Garrett looked up to confirm it.  There they were, just large enough an exit for him to get through.  The Assassin pushed on his shoulders again, and Garrett let himself sink into the pillows this time.  A blanket was pulled up over him, but still…  He fought to stay awake.

Corvo put a hand to his head.  “Trust me, Garrett.  I will not let harm befall you.”

“I…”  Garrett found himself sinking into sleep regardless of his wishes.  He sighed as his eyes closed.  “Alright,” he breathed, and knew no more.


	9. Of the Deaf and the Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett has an enlightening conversation with a deaf woman, and Corvo meets a fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to post a chapter, guys! Thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

It was quiet for a few moments as Garrett’s breathing evened out.  Corvo gestured for Zehn to follow him out to the other room, where Shizuya waited, making tea.  “Irrational paranoia, anxiety, difficulty judging the world around him…  He’s not doing well, my lord,” the spymaster remarked.

“No…  It was poisoned, wasn’t it?  Whatever weapon was used on his side?” the Lord Protector asked, gratefully accepting a mug of tea from the quiet woman.

Zehn nodded and gave his wife a faint smile when she handed him some as well.  “I fear so.  Nothing I’ve ever seen, and the dreams he has…  Sometimes he tosses and turns for hours, grunting and shouting.”

Corvo frowned, worried.  He looked toward the closed door of the room Garrett slept in.  “I’ll have to get Piero over here after all, then.”

“Is that wise?”

“He’s worked on Garrett before, and I can trust him,” Corvo said firmly.  “I’ll have him stop by later today.  For now, I must get back to the Empress.  You should get to the palace soon as well.”  He finished off his tea and stood, offering Shizuya a thankful smile.  “Thank you for your hospitality.”

She bowed and signed her acceptance, smiling.

Corvo headed back to the palace.

xXx

When Garrett woke again, he came out of a restful, dreamless sleep.  It actually took him a while to even realize that he was awake.  It was completely dark, save a candle in the corner of the room, and a woman sat near that, reading.

Garrett recalled, vaguely, threatening her with a knife.   _ Was that real?  Or just a dream? _ he wondered.  “Miss…”

She didn’t even give any sign that she heard him, peering down at her book with deep concentration.  Garrett sat up, wincing when his side told him that was a bad idea.  Her head jerked up at the movement and she gasped.  He lifted his hands to show they were empty.  “Do you have water?”

The woman blinked, looking confused.  She set aside her book and got to her feet, approaching with the candle so it shone on his face.  ‘ _ What _ ?’ she mouthed, no sound issuing forth from her lips.

He frowned back at her.  “Water.  Do you have any?”

The confusion faded, replaced with a smile, and she nodded, setting aside the candle.  He watched her walk from the room, and took the opportunity to look around.  It was… a cozy little room, made up as a spare bedroom.  There were no windows, which probably meant either underground or shored up against the plague.  Strange.

The candle was the only lightsource, save a bit that crept in under the only door in the room.  There were two dressers but no bureau, and a small privy set right into the corner of the room, only a curtain hanging from the ceiling to give any privacy.  It was the far wall that drew his attention, though.

It was painted to resemble a view of some sort of Asian temple in the mountains, surrounded by snow.  The door was even blended into it, painted to seem as if it were a temple gate with a path beyond.

The door opened then, and the woman entered with a pitcher and cup, offering a smile when she realized he was watching.  She brought them over to the small table beside the bed where she’d sat the candle, removing that to one of the dresser tops.  He watched her pour him a glass, hands steady, and offer it to him.

He accepted it, cautiously sniffing at it, and then sipped.  “Thank you,” he murmured, throat soothed for the moment.

She inclined her head and, to his surprise, wrote, “You’re welcome,” with her hands.  He blinked at her.

“You’re deaf?  Or mute?” he asked.

“Deaf,” she told him, still smiling.  “Since I was child.  Had accident.”

Garrett sipped at his water again.  “I’m sorry,” he replied, sincerely.  The disabled always had a harder time of it, as most people simply assumed they were either idiotic or incapable, and should be treated as such.  However, in his experience, most were determined, sincere people, honest usually.  Not exactly the sort of people he usually associated with.

She waved the apology away.  “You feel better?” she asked.  “Have bad dreams a lot.  Toss and turn in bed.”

He didn’t even remember dreaming.  “I feel better, yes.  Kind of dried out, though.  I remember Corvo…?”

The woman - Shizua?  Shizuka?  Shizuya! - nodded.  “Corvo working.  With Empress.”

“Yes… he’s her protector.”  She nodded at him.  “I’m tired,” he sighed.

She motioned toward the bed with a hand.  “Sleep.  Good for you.”

“I think I will, yes, thank you.”  He set aside the glass of water and laid back.  She reached over to fix his blankets over him, as tiredness seemed to seep into his bones.  He closed his eyes, and opened them again to find that she was no longer there.  It didn’t at all feel like he’d been asleep, so he drifted off again.

When he came to, Corvo was hand-writing with Shizuya by the door.  It was dark and quiet, night, Garrett assumed.  He watched their hands.

“Not sleep well,” Shizuya said.

Corvo frowned, still for a beat.  “Does he dream?”

She nodded.  “Sometimes scream.  Cry for someone named…”  She paused, and mouthed Erin’s name.

The Assassin spelled out Erin and then nodded when she made a sign Garrett didn't understand.  He went on.  “Do you know anything about,” he asked, ending with the same unfamiliar sign she'd used.

Shizuya shrugged helplessly and shook her head.  “Too confusing, can't hear.”

“Yes.  Right.  Sorry,” Corvo said, looking ashamed.

She patted his shoulder.  “You stay until he wake up?”

“Yes, I stay,” Corvo agreed.

“I make tea,” she replied, smiled at him, and left.

Corvo turned to look at Garrett.  “You're awake.  How do you feel?” he asked.

“Cold,” Garrett muttered, and grimaced when his stomach rumbled.  “Hungry.  Is there anything to eat?”

“Yeah.  Let me go get you something,” Corvo said, and left.

Garrett looked at the door, then up at the air duct above him.  He contemplated leaving while Corvo was gone, but something kept him in the bed.  It was warmer than outside, relatively safe.

He closed his eyes tiredly, drawing a slow breath.  When he opened them, he startled; the Outsider crouched on the end of the bed, looking bored.  “ **_Finally.  I've been waiting, Garrett._ ** ”

Garrett groaned.  “Not you again.  What do you want this time?”

The Outsider grinned at him.  “ **_Garrett, your lack of warmth hurts!  Can't a god check up on the welfare of a mortal without having ulterior motives?_ ** ”

“You're not a god, and no, you can't,” Garrett retorted irritably.

A laugh was his answer.  “ **_Well, I suppose both points are fairly accurate._ ** ”  He stepped off the bed to stand beside it.  “ **_Once again, you are needed.  Perhaps this is not the City you were born in, but nonetheless you are tied to it just as much as your last home.  You have the Primal to thank for that, naturally._ ** ”

Garrett wondered if Corvo could wake him up.  He had to be dreaming.  This was getting a bit ridiculous.  “The Primal is gone.”

The Outsider smiled and tapped below his right eye.  “ **_It will always be a part of you, Garrett._ ** ”

Garrett looked away.  “I never asked for that,” he muttered.  He never had; not being a Keeper, not saving the damn City, not being one with the Primal… none of it.

“ **_It is your fate.  Why fight it?_ ** ”

“Because I will choose my own fate,” Garrett snarled, sitting up in bed.

Corvo jerked back, hand quickly retracting from Garrett's shoulder.  “The Outsider again?  What did he want?”

The thief winced, hand going to his aching side.  “He was just trying to meddle.  Don't worry about it.”

Corvo eyed him, but stepped over to the dresser against the wall, where he’d set a tray with a bowl of soup on it.  He brought it over to Garrett.  “Here, I got you something to eat.”

“Thanks,” Garrett murmured, accepting it.  It didn’t take him long to eat it, and he didn’t even spill a drop.

The Assassin watched on in amusement.  “Would you like more?” he asked.

Garrett eyed him suspiciously but then nodded.  “Yeah.”  He handed over the bowl and got a glass of water from the pitcher beside the bed.  Corvo left the room to get him some more soup.

Shizuya followed him back in.  “Good evening,” she wrote, ending with a sign he didn’t know.  “How you feel?”

He tilted his hand back and forth and set aside the glass, accepting the bowl.  “ _ Better _ ,” he wrote back, mouth full.

She beamed.  “Good.  I check you when done?”

Garrett nodded.  “Alright,” he said aloud between bites.

Shizuya looked to Corvo, making that unfamiliar sign again.  “Much better.  I tell you, soup best.”

The thief finished off his second bowl and waved for her attention.  He made the sign she just did.  “What does that mean?” he asked.

She smiled at him.  “Garrett,” she spelled out, and repeated the sign.

Which meant the other sign she’d used must have been ‘Erin’, he thought.  “Ah.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, and came over to check his temperature with the back of her hand.  “You warm still.  Better now.  If you stand, I change bedding.”

Garrett nodded and carefully got to his feet, swaying a little.  He pretended not to notice her hand on his shoulder steadying him, and stepped out of the way.  Looking at the watchful Corvo, he said, “I should go.”

“You’re not well yet,” Corvo responded, frowning.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

The thief shook his head.  “Staying in one place isn’t a good idea.  I’m a thief- eventually someone will come looking for me.  Besides, I need to get back to work.”

“With that injury?” the Assassin asked incredulously, motioning to Garrett’s bandaged side.

It was only then that Garrett realized he was actually topless, only wearing his pants.  His gaze darted over the room, to find his tops folded neatly atop one of the dressers.  He strode over to them and started pulling them on, finding them clean but fortunately scentless.  “It’s what I do.  I’ve managed with worse.”

“And should you relapse into fever again?  What then?”

“I have places I can go.  I appreciate the help, but I don’t  _ need _ you.”  Garrett paused, vest half on, and looked at Corvo.  That hadn’t come out exactly right.  “I…  _ do _ appreciate everything you’ve done, Corvo.”

Sighing, the Lord Protector shook his head.  “I can’t convince you to stay, can I.”  It wasn’t exactly a question, but there was something to it…

Garrett pushed the thought aside, unwilling to analyze it further.  “No.”

“At least take some food with you,” Corvo said.

The thief hesitated, then nodded.  “That would be good.  Thank you.”

xXx

She stood at the end of the sewer, garbed in a dirty outfit that may have been white once, all tucked and tied off fabric.  Her dark hair was haphazard, chopped unevenly around her skull, and blue eyes stared back at him.

Neither moved, Corvo utterly still in the shadow of a pipe, but both knew the other saw them clearly.  “You’re…”  Her voice was a bare breath, but he heard it nonetheless.  “You’re him.  The assassin…  I’ve come all this way, and I’ve finally found you!”

He frowned behind his mask, the reverence in her voice bothering him.

“I want you to teach me,” she breathed, taking a step along the service path she stood on.  “Please…”

Corvo straightened slowly.  “Teach you?” he echoed, not sure he liked where this was going.

She nodded, drawing closer.  “I take the odd job here and there,” she said softly.  “Theft, assassination, anything…  But I’m nothing like you.  You’re the best.  The greatest.  You’re  _ The Assassin _ !”

His stomach turned.  Certainly he’d been called ‘Assassin’ for a long time, but with such weight and awe behind it?  “I do what I must.  I don’t take on apprentices.”

Her face fell slightly. “But I came so far… I found you, against everything… Even when others tried to stop me, I  _ found you _ .”

That… was very true. “Who are you? What is your name?” he asked, taking a step closer. He eyed her, pinpointing every weapon on her body.

“I’m… my name is… Ameli. I’m not anybody. Just… alone. I’ve been alone for a long time,” she murmured, looking suddenly tired.

“Ameli. I’m a killer, and there is no nobility in that,” he told her quietly, taking another careful step as she looked at her feet. “I do what I must for my own reasons, but never for myself. If taking life is truly the way you must go with yours, you have to make a decision. Why will you do it? More importantly, who will you do it for? Never for yourself, and never needlessly. Do you understand?”

Bright blue eyes lifted to stare at him. “You… you sound just like someone else… Someone I used to know,” she told him, swallowing. “I don’t know what I should do. I’m  _ good _ at it. Really good at it. What else could I do? I have no one, just my profession.”

He refrained from sighing, barely. He felt bad for her, he truly did. However, if she was really who and what she said she was, he couldn’t simply leave her unchecked.  _ She’s so young… _ “Meet me at the Cock and Hen Pub tonight. Perhaps… I can make use of you.”

“Yes- yes! Of course!” she said, relief shining through the fog of uncertainty. She looked relieved and somewhat victorious. Brash of her, perhaps, but that was just one more reason for him to keep track of her.

Corvo nodded and  _ Blinked _ away, pausing only once to look back at her, but she was gone almost as quickly as he had vanished.  _ Not a typical girl _ , he mused, troubled.

He needed some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment? Please?


	10. The Errant Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo seeks advice, and Garrett gets involved; things appear to be a bit more complicated for our men than either of them realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! And please comment.

Zehn looked up as Corvo entered his office, apparently done with the night’s work. “Ah, my friend, welcome back. How did it go?”

“Smoothly,” Corvo replied, dropping a folder in front of him. He waited as Zehn looked the notes over thoughtfully, and continued when the spymaster looked up. “I wanted to ask you something...”

Zehn blinked, but stood. “Of course, of course. What is it?” he asked, brows rising. “I’ll make us some tea, mm?”

The Lord Protector nodded. “Thank you.” He leaned against a wall, and Zehn could feel his gaze on him as he set about preparing tea. “I met a young, freelance assassin this evening. He was… not normal. Perhaps not entirely human, and certainly crazy.”

“But?” Zehn prompted, glancing back at him.

“But… He wanted me to teach him the things I know. I’m… I don’t want to, however I know he’s unlikely to stop, and I don’t really want to kill him. He’s still so young, and perhaps I could help him through whatever he’s suffering from… Keep an eye on him.”

Zehn turned on the stove and faced Corvo. “Alright… Then what is your question, my friend?”

“I don’t know if I should.” Corvo’s expression was hard to determine behind the mask, which he still hadn’t removed. Maybe he’d forgotten it was there.

The Spymaster considered the implications. “I see. Why don’t you want to dispose of him?”

Corvo paused. “He’s barely older than a  _ youth _ , Zehn. Mid-twenties at most.”

“Ah.” That explained a lot. Corvo had problems harming the young. He saw Emily in all of them. “Then apprentice him, or turn him in to the guard.”

“There would be too many lives lost that way… But an apprenticeship? The world doesn’t need more killers,” Corvo grumbled, a bit petulantly.

Zehn nodded. “You just said he’d be one even without you. Your involvement is the only option you’re leaving for yourself. Alternatively, walk away and don’t look back.” He sighed at the stare his friend was giving him. “I know it’s harsh, Corvo, but considering what you’ve told me… You’ve already made up your mind.”

The other man was utterly still for a long moment, before he nodded and reached up, removing his mask. He looked unhappily resigned. “You’re right. How typical of you.”

Smiling, Zehn turned as the teapot whistled. “So, when are you meeting him next?”

“Tonight, at a pub,” Corvo replied.

Zehn nodded. “Well, then, I’ll have to make sure you’re free, hm?”

The assassin eyed him suspiciously. “...quite.”

xXx

Hastening down the street, Erin pulled the hood of her cloak more tightly around her against the chilly mist. This city, she’d discovered, seemed to always be wet. Perhaps it was a hazard of living on the sea. Maybe if she stuck out her tongue, the light drizzle would taste of salt.

Regardless, she only held these fancies briefly before shoving them away and continuing on with single-minded determination. She had a meeting to get to, with a very important man, and she was already late.  _ Will he have already been and gone? _ she wondered fretfully.  _ Or will he still be there? Or maybe he hasn’t arrived yet. He didn’t exactly specify a time. _

Scowling, she darted to the side of the street and grabbed the handle of a ladder hanging from a trellis, heaving herself up. She climbed swiftly, making good time up the trellis and onto the roof before continuing along that way. It really wasn’t hard, to be honest. At least this ‘highway’ presented more of a challenge than back home.

_ Home. As if you can call it that anymore _ , that ever present voice sneered in the back of her head.

Erin stumbled to a halt seconds before she’d have pitched over the edge of a roof, startled.  _ I haven’t thought of Garrett in so long… Why now? Why here? _

She stared, eyes wide, out over the rooftops, not really seeing anything but that face in the back of her mind. Garrett’s face.  _ I miss him _ , she realized in disbelief.  _ He betrayed me, but I miss him. _

…

_ I have a new mentor now. I don’t need  _ **_Garrett_ ** _! _

She leapt from the roof without fear, slowing her descent with a jutting windowsill and rolling once she landed to keep from injuring her legs. She came up out of the movement and to her feet, standing less than twelve inches away from an unfamiliar man.

He had a brand on his face.

xXx

Corvo was sitting at Garrett’s usual table when the thief entered the Cock and Hen. He was there to meet one of Basso’s ‘clients’, who was insisting on paying Garrett his reward for a theft well done himself. Garrett, clearly, wasn’t expecting an interloper.

“You're in my seat,” the thief said in disapproval, even as he took the chair across from Corvo.

The assassin was amused.  “Good to see you too.  Are you feeling any better?”  It had only been two days since Garrett left Zehn’s home.

“I'm fine,” Garrett replied simply.

How typical of him.  No explanations, no details, just two words that really told Corvo less than his own eyes could.  Garrett still favored his right side, though he made a good effort of not letting on.  His cheeks weren't flushed anymore, which meant that at least his fever was gone.  Corvo doubted the thief would let him check, in any case.

Sighing, he leaned forward to grab his ale, mind drifting to the girl.  He'd half expected her to be camped out here all day, but she wasn't present when he arrived, nor had the workers in the bar seen her all day.  Had she perhaps changed her mind?  That would certainly make Corvo’s life easier.  Still, he wouldn't have expected it.

Across from him, Garrett went utterly still, eyes wide.  From this vantage, Corvo could see the slight dilation of the good one, but not the other.  He didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular, rather dazed and vacant.  Then he curled in on himself, holding his head with a pained grimace.  “Erin!” he gasped out.  “She's-”  He grunted.  “Someone's hurting her!”

Corvo circled the table and crouched next to him, one hand on his shoulder.  “Erin?  Where is she?”

“I don't know, I- There are hound cages in the basement.”  He looked up, eyes agonized.  “We have to save her.”

“We will,” Corvo replied firmly, feeling a tingling sense of foreboding.  “I think I know where we can find her.”

xXx

Everything hurt, from her toes to her crown.  She couldn't remember the last time it hadn't.  How long had it been?  Hours?  Days?

A gentle hand smoothed back her bangs and brushed along her cheek.  “I brought you some water, Erin.  Would you like it?” a soft voice asked.

She swallowed against a sandy throat and nodded.  “Yes…”

A cup was pressed to her lips and he helped her sip, before taking it away all too soon.  “I have a few questions for you, dear girl.  Answer them and I'll give you more.  Okay?”

Erin nodded again, feeling dazed.  “Okay…” she breathed.

“Come on, open your eyes, my dear.”  He smiled when she did so, sleepily.  “I want to know about Garrett, Erin.  What are his weaknesses?”

She frowned, confused.  “Garrett doesn't have weaknesses,” she replied.

“Everyone has them, dear.  Now think.  Is it a person?  A habit?  A vice?”

Erin stared at his scarred face, at the strange brand there.  “Garrett is…  Garrett…  Garrett's…”  She blinked slowly, dark pulling in at the edges of her vision.  Garrett?  Weak?  “He's… too smart for that…  To let himself have a weakness…  Garrett has no heart.”

He reached forward, knuckles soothing against her cheek.  “Poor sweet Erin.  So neglected….”  He helped her drink a bit more water, pulling it away and patting her back when she swallowed wrong.  “I will never abandon you…  Not like the Assassin, or Garrett.”

She looked up at him, movement flickering somewhere deep in the shadows.  “Assassin?” she called, hopefully.

“He will not be coming for you,” the dead man before her said, not seeing the curl of shadow about his neck.  “You will never again-”

She never heard the end of his sentence, just that of his life.  With a gasp and a gurgle, he collapsed into a puddle of his own blood.  The man that stepped into the light wasn't who she was expecting.

“Garrett?”

xXx

Garrett all but leapt forward when Erin's eyes rolled into the back of her head, but he needn't have bothered.  She was tied securely to the chair she sat in, and merely slumped.  He frowned, hand to her cheek.  “Erin…  Erin, please…”

He saw Corvo move behind her and caught her a second later when the bonds were cut.  Carefully, he lifted her and stood.  “We have to bring her somewhere else…  My hideout is close.”

Corvo nodded, face hidden behind a familiar mask.  “Lead on.”

They left the old abandoned building - the Hound Pits Pub - and moved in a circuitous route under it through the sewers.  Garrett lead Corvo to the place he'd been sleeping lately, something that was once a clock maker's shop but had long since been abandoned.  They went up through the sewer hatch in the basement and brought Erin to the upstairs apartment.  Garrett set her on his bed and quickly set to cleaning her of blood and tending to her wounds.  Fortunately, most of them were superficial.

“This is your Erin?” Corvo asked after a while, as the thief wrapped gauze around her wrists.

Garrett nodded, teeth clenched.  “I used to steal with her…  I taught her how.”

Corvo crouched beside him and held up a missive.  “Campbell wasn't working alone.  He was working for the Disowned Criers.”  He shook his head.  “I've never heard of them, but they seem to have an interest in you.”

Garrett finished his task and took the letter from Corvo, scanning it.  It was detailing how to capture Erin and what to ask her.  The means of extraction for information was left up to the agent.  “How did you know his name?  It's not on here.”

For a few moments, Corvo said nothing.  Then he sighed.  “I am the one that gave him the Heretics Brand.”

“Heretics Brand?”

The assassin nodded.  “Used for any overseer that is abusing his station.  Even the Head Overseer.”

Garrett nodded, staring down at Erin’s sleeping face.  “Thank you, Corvo.”

“Why thank me?  I left him alive,” Corvo replied, voice soft.

“Chances are, they'd have sent someone else if you hadn't,” Garrett told him, and sighed as he stood.  “Can I ask you a favor?”

The Assassin didn't hesitate.  “Anything.”

“Can you watch her until Basso gets here?  I have to see if I can find anything out.”  He crossed the room to the chest of gadgets and started rifling through them for his special arrows.

“Of course,” Corvo’s voice followed him.  “But… are you okay to do this alone?”

Garrett shrugged.  “I always work alone.  It's nothing new.”

“You don't  _ have _ to, though,” the taller man insisted.

Pausing when Corvo touched his shoulder, Garrett looked up into that masked face.  Then he looked away.  “I know,” he said, and shrugged the hand off.

xXx

Corvo was hiding in the shadows as Basso arrived, bitching under his breath about the location of ‘Garrett's damn hovel’.  He stalked into the room and went straight for Erin, checking her heart and holding a knife under her nose to check her breath.  He poked briefly at her injuries and reached for the pot of warm water beside the mattress.

Corvo _ Blinked _ to stand behind him.  “Where did Garrett go?” he asked.

Basso nearly stabbed himself in the leg as he jumped.  He whipped around, wide eyes taking in Corvo’s mask.  “H-holy fuck!”

Corvo scowled and crossed his arms.  “Basso…”

“Wha- how do you know my name?!”

The assassin blinked at him, irritation derailed.  “How?” he echoed, then realized that Basso had probably never realized he was the Assassin of the Empire.  Garrett hadn't told him?  Interesting.  “Answer my question.”

“G-Garrett?  Why do you want to know?” Basso demanded suspiciously, seeming to gather himself.

Corvo tilted his head.  “I owe him.”

Basso blinked, then squinted.  “... Lord Protector?  Is that you?”

Corvo considered denying it, but at this point it would be moot.  He frowned and removed the mask.  “Where has Garrett gone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I honestly don't know when the next chapter will come out. I'm having a bit of trouble with it. It's gonna be packed, that's for certain. But you can look forward to a few more answers and a few more questions. And maybe a bit of bonding.
> 
> Also, I can use some help from you guys, if you could take a moment. If you have any questions at all about the story, I invite you to ask them, please! I might not answer them through messages, but it will definitely give me an outside perspective on what I need to consider for future chapters. Please, give me a hand! Sometimes, I'll forget to cover things, but if you think of something, that'll be a good reminder. Thank you for your time!  
> -Lost


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